I have been to the E.R.
I've been with a baby in tow when my 10 year old fell head first off the half wall onto the stairs below.
I've been in the middle of the night when the same child had a croup attack badly enough to make us call the neighbor and head out in the snow.
I've made appointments to have various items removed from facial orifices.
I've had an infant taken from the doctor's office to the Critical Care unit for pneumonia and RSV.
I've left church for stitches at the walk in clinic.
I've forgone stitches for butterflies.
But NEVER in my mommy career had I needed to call 911- until Tuesday.
Hello. My name is Gina. I'm a bad mom.
We have a prune tree. It's a nice tree. The prunes are really yummy, and we have been snacking on them for weeks. The kids have been moving higher and higher into the tree in their quest for the purple-black goodness. See:
But look again:
That's about 15 feet up. He's about 3 feet tall. He is 4 times over his head and more than twice over mine. And I mentioned the kids climb this tree. I do not. As nice and plummy as it is, it will not support me. I also couldn't find a ladder tall enough to get him down. Somehow he has gotten all the way out to the end of the branches- wearing his "new" camo rubber boots- that are 3 sizes too big for him and afford very little hold on the tree branch. Needless to say, he was not getting back. Enter 911.
I have mentioned I live in a small town, right? See this guy? Our families hang out. We barbecue. His wife does my hair. They go rafting with us. Um, yeah. "Hi, Officer Brian."
Luckily, the day before at preschool, they had a fire safety talk and had met a fire man. The fire man said that when a fire man comes to get you you go right to them. Good thing, because he knew exactly what to do.